The 78th Hunger Games: The Absolved
by Dante Alighieri1308
Summary: Rebellion breathing down their necks, the Capitol once more offers up 24 Tributes for slaughter. Tossed into a hell designed to remind the Districts of the horrors of war, tributes will struggle against Panem's dark past, all while trying to claim to tainted title of Victor, the only hope for salvation. Sequel to the 76th and 77th Games, but not necessary to have read. SYOT OPEN
1. Prologue

_**Well… I'm back.**_

 _ **After almost a year and half, I'm back. For the final time but hey, here we go. The 78**_ _ **th**_ _ **Hunger Games! The final one in this trilogy.**_

 _ **Now, if you're a first time reader, you don't have to read the 76**_ _ **th**_ _ **or 77**_ _ **th**_ _ **Games – though I always welcome more readers and reviewers. I will give sufficient backstory on each of them, nor will lack of knowledge of the previous two hurt anyone's chances of getting their tribute into this year's Games.**_

 _ **For now, read, enjoy, and submit a tribute if you like!**_

 **I DO NOT OWN THE HUNGER GAMES. ALL CREDIT GOES TO SUZANNE COLLINS. ANY CHARACTERS OR LOCATIONS OR PLOT LINES NOT FEATURED IN SUZANNE COLLIN'S STORY BELONG TO ME. ANY TRIBUTES SUBMITTED BY OTHER AUTHOR AND/OR REVIEWERS BELONG TO THEM AND BE CREDITED.**

* * *

 **Prologue and the Tributes**

 **The Capitol: The President's Palace**

 **Six Months Before the 78** **th** **Hunger Games**

"A sewer?"

"Y-yes, sir. A sewer system, to be, um, to be precise."

With a flick of his wrist, the hologram of the arena vanished from sight and President Cornelius Snow's eyes met those of a very nervous and sweaty Gamemaker. He was the sixth Gamemaker he had met with that day and, just as it was with the previous five, the President was thoroughly unimpressed. The only thing keeping him calm was the impeccably kept conditions of his study, their order and disciplined aesthetic reminding him to remain composed as well. Behind him, he felt soft light fall onto his back, clouds rolling over the opulent capitol and littering snow over the magnificent skyline.

To his credit, the young Gamemaker seemed to realize his idea was doomed. Still, it wouldn't do just to let him off easy. The President had a reputation to uphold, especially so in this time of crisis. He wouldn't appear weak on the home front.

"How long have you been a Gamemaker?" He asked calmly, his posture rigid and statuesque.

"F-five years." The Gamemaker replied, sweat soaking through his purple dress shirt.

"Five years. Impressive" The President remarked. It was in fact. It also spoke to his incompetence that after all these years he was still so low in the hierarchy. "Then you must know that sewers – forgive me, a sewer system – have been done before."

"I remember. It was one of the first Games I remember."

The Gamemaker's choice in arena suddenly became much clearly to the President. He was the sentimental type, therefore in no condition to be Head Gamemaker.

"Then you remember how they went, don't you?" The President asked. He could tell the Gamemaker wanted to interrupt, only holding himself back out of respect and fear. "The 45th Hunger Games. Can you tell me what happened?"

"More than half died of infection. But with respect, sir, my arena accounts for that and I think-"

The President held up one hand for silence and the Gamemaker went still. "Thirteen tribute died of infection to be exact. An unprecedented number. Then three died from the mutts that year, and one girl fell into some rotating blades. Only six tributes died due to another tribute. Poor performance doesn't even begin to sufficiently describe it. Not mention to lack of revenue we receive from that arena. Nobody from the Capitol wants to spend money to tour it, not even the poorest here. The only redeeming value of the Games was that Victor Chaff had charisma and managed to soothe some frayed nerves, mine included."

"I understand that completely, sir, but my arena-"

"Your arena is as abysmal as the location it mimics. I am very disappointed if this is the best you could come up with. Perhaps a change in employment would be best?"

The Gamemaker was now pale, eyes downcast. "I apologize, Mr. President. I should have thought better."

"Yes, you should have." The President scolded. "Perhaps next time, hmm?"

"Yes, sir."

"You're dismissed."

Quickly, the Gamemaker rose, grabbing his files and data, and scurried out, the Avoxes leading him to the exit. As he left, President Snow waved over another Avox, quietly asking for me tea. As the Avox poured, Snow turned in his chair to look out the windows, across his gardens and to his young granddaughter. She was playing in the snow with friends while Avoxes stood off to the sides, ready to attend to their needs.

'Young' was perhaps the wrong word to use to describe her. She was sixteen now and growing up to be an intelligent, beautiful, and perhaps too empathetic woman. Her education was the finest in the Capitol, not watered down in any way and free of propaganda. She was taught the true history of Panem, the reality that citizens in the Districts faced, and about the world before Panem, a taboo subject in the Capitol. Snow had to speak with his granddaughter about what she learned, calmly reminding her to not speak of certain things she learned from her private tutors around her friends. So far she had complied, realizing the magnitude of the knowledge she was being given.

Such an education was necessary if she was to become the next President of Panem, a role Snow would begin grooming her for this year. He should have started earlier, but he had spoiled his granddaughter, wanting her to enjoy her childhood as much as she could. Still, she had to be ready to take the reins of power when the time came. Snow's declining health seemed to signal that would be sooner rather than later.

And what kind of world was he leaving her to govern? A nightmare if things continued as they did. Panem had perhaps not been this dangerous since before the Dark Days. The chaos that followed the 77th Games had not dissipated, the fire seemingly growing bigger by the day. Things in the Capitol were tame at least, but the mood was one for retribution. They were furious over the ending to the Games, which was good for the President. He could use that in the next Games, which he would be overseeing closely this year.

After all, he had still failed to find a suitable, controllable replacement for the turncoat, Plutarch Havensbee.

Meanwhile, the Districts were restless. Small protests were breaking out across the Districts, the most severe occurring in the outliers. District 9 had returned to its rebellious ways, having not learned their lesson following the 76th Games. Even the loyal inner Districts were starting to show cracks.

The Victory Tour, now a week old, was an unmitigated, unsalvageable disaster as well.

The incident in District 8 had at least occurred away from Cameras and contained to the District. But the events in District 4, occurring as the 77th Victor gave her speech, had been broadcast across Panem. Wherever she went, the Victor seemed to stir up trouble. But she still continued to tow the line for the Capitol. She was no rebel, not that they wanted her anyways. The Victor's popularity in the Districts had always been low, and the Tour had done nothing to help her. From the reports he was receiving, she was descending even further into her morphling addiction as well, a state that suited the President just fine.

A knock at the door distracted him from his thoughts. Briefly, his focus returned to his granddaughter, who was now thanking an Avox for bringing out hot chocolate.

' _Too much empathy.'_ The President thought, before turning around towards the door.

"Your next appointment, sir." His secretary announced.

With a nod, Snow beckoned in the next Gamemaker, who entered trying to project an air of confidence. The President already knew everything there was to know about her, so it was interesting to see how she portrayed herself now.

Analysse Reyes. Aged forty, five foot, five inches, cropped black hair with golden pierced ears and a no nonsense pantsuit. Her ancestors were from the Old World continent of Asia, most likely southeast, making her of a dying race in Panem. She had a husband and one daughter, only five years old, and not many friends. She was very work oriented, the child seemingly more for her doting husband than herself.

"Mr. President." Reyes began, a small smile coming to her face. She made no move to try and shake his hand, well aware of protocol. Instead, Snow gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

"A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Reyes." The President said, wanting to see if she would correct him. She didn't even seem to flinch at 'Ms.'. Already a good sign. "Shall we?"

Without missing a beat, Reyes passed over files and opened up a hologram of the arena. Ignoring the folders, the President examined the arena, impressed by its size and scope.

"Interesting choice." He remarked. "Normally the Capitol prefers something more picturesque, no?"

"They would, sir." She replied. "But considering the mood, I thought something along these lines would be better."

"Very intuitive. Show me a timeline for topographical changes."

A flick of a wrist and the timetable began. The arena changed before his eyes, as Reyes spoke about each change and her reasoning behind it.

"Mutts?"

Another flick. The mutts were fierce, scary, and tailored well to the arena.

"They're no Leviathan, sir, but I'm sure they can do the job well."

The President had to smile at that. "Indeed." He replied, rising as he did. Reyes rose with him, her steely façade cracking for a moment to show a mixture of fear and hope. His smile growing, the President extended his hand. "Congratulations, Ms. Reyes. The Arena is yours."

Jubilation flooded her face, a small sigh of glee escaping her lips before she quickly regained composure and took his hand into her own. "Thank you, sir. Thank you so much sir. I will not let you down!"

The President smiled, his grip tightening. "No, no you won't."

The future of Panem depended on success. One wrong move and the District's could rebel once again. It all had to go perfectly.

And President Snow had no intention of allowing any rebel sentiment to show in these Games.

And now he had an arena to do just that.

 **Tributes of the 78** **th** **Hunger Games**

 **Happy Hunger Games! And May the Odds Be Ever in Their Favor!**

 **District** **1 (Luxury)**

 **M:** Augustus Kerrick (18)

 **F:** Rosa Ranevall (18)

 **District 2 (Masonry/Military)**

 **M:** Erasmus Draven (18)

 **F:** Lyla Rorrish (18)

 **District 3 (Technology)**

 **M:** Cyril Swatton (16)

 **F:** Siri Oshiro (16)

 **District 4 (Fishing)**

 **M:** Marlin Mendez (18)

 **F:** Mediterrania Seville (18)

 **District 5 (Power)**

 **M:**

 **F:** Eleanor "Ellie" Bernoulli (14)

 **District 6 (Transportation/Medicine)**

 **M:** Ezra Nazari (18)

 **F:** Avalynn Kapur (16)

 **District 7 (Lumber)**

 **M:** Orion "Ori" Ballantine (13)

 **F:** Reina Visini (17)

 **District 8 (Textiles)**

 **M:** Brighton Pharaoh (15)

 **F:** Lacey McElle (17)

 **District 9 (Grain)**

 **M:** Tanner Davies (16)

 **F:** Hayes Morris (15)

 **District 10 (Livestock)**

 **M:** Rafe Vaccaro (18)

 **F:** Marena Combe (17)

 **District 11 (Agriculture)**

 **M:** Sean DeSantos (16)

 **F:** Tepary Plantae (18)

 **District 12 (Coal/Mining)**

 **M:**

 **F:** Marley Calabrese (15)

* * *

 _ **And here we go!**_

 _ **It always bothered me that Collins would just drop casually that Snow had a Granddaughter. That should have been a bigger point in the books. She'll be making more appearances later in the story as well.**_

 _ **Also, the story surrounding the 45th Hunger Games is taken from the amazing Hoprocker's Story:**_ Final Judgement: The 44th Hunger Games _ **. I would highly recommend checking out her stories because they blow mine out of the water.**_

 _ **Only a few more submissions needed! Don't be shy!**_

 _ **Hope you enjoyed and leave a review if you like!**_


	2. For Honor, Glory, and Freedom

**_Thank you all so much for being so patient! I'm really sorry it took this long to get it up, but again, the end of the year was total chaos._**

 _ **I still need a few more tributes, including the District 3 and District 4 male, so if you know anyone who would be interested in submitting please let me know!**_

 ** _There are also references to tributes and events from the previous two Hunger Games stories in this chapter. I think it's explained well, but if you have questions just ask! Otherwise, enjoy!_**

* * *

 **Chapter 1 For Honor, Glory, and Freedom**

 **District 1**

 **Day of the Reaping **

She only saw darkness, yet instantly knew where she was. She always found herself here, lying on the cold ground, the bricks underneath bumping into her bare skin. She couldn't see but she knew where she was. As she moved her legs she could feel something fuzzy rub against it, leaking something wet. The corpse of the rat she had bit into, her hunger still not satiated. In the background, murmurs. As always, she could not tell what they were saying.

 _'I don't want to be here'_ she thought, drawing her out of the dream.

Eighteen-year-old Rosa Ranevall awoke slowly, the trauma that the dream invoked fresh in her mind. She was used to it by now though. Most of her dreams seemed to end the same way. She could be dreaming of the Capitol, of having the ability to walk across the sky, even dream of being with a beautiful boy or girl and yet she'd still end up in that darkness. Stuck with those memories.

Rosa could smell it now, the damp smell of that basement, the smell of her infected flesh, of the rats, of her piss and shit.

Her mind focused as she began her morning routine, her grip tightened on the knife she slept with. Throwing off the satin sheets she slept under, Rosa slipped from bed with every muscle tightened, expecting a fight from some stranger rushing from the closet or main door to attack her. Quickly, she reached underneath the bed and pulled out the unsheathed short sword she had stolen from the Career Center.

The dream had made her anxious, so she moved through her routine faster than normal. She started with her bedroom, checking to make sure the windows were still locked. Then the door, to make sure the feather she had left on top hadn't fallen. Finally, the closet, which she threw open and jabbed into with her sword. Nothing.

Rosa moved through the empty two story house repeating the process, her anxiety heightening with each room. Only once she had visited every part of the house, and double checked a few areas, did she feel secure enough to relax on one of the barstools at her kitchen counter. Her knife and sword were still tightly grasped in her hands, her knuckles white from pressure. She stared blankly into space, the steady beat of the grandfather clock in the living room pacing her thoughts.

After ten minutes, Rosa finally moved again. She put the knife away but held onto the sword as she moved to the coffee maker. It was an old model, far behind anything the Capitol had, but it was a luxury in District 1 that only those in the prestigious Diamond Quarter could afford. Rosa pulled open a cabinet and grabbed the coffee grind, sighing as she realized she was about to use the last of it. Coffee was becoming increasingly rare in District 1, one of many items that District leaders were afraid of losing.

It had been several years since a District 1 Victory in the Hunger Games, their last being the 69th Games. After that, Annie Cresta won the 70th Games, followed by a District 7 victory with Joanna Mason. District 4 won again with the 72nd Games, and then District 2 three time in a row, the last two being Cato in the 74th and Brutus again in the Third Quarter Quell. District 7 won again with the insane Willow Bark in the 76th Games, and finally District 12's Aileen Whittaker winning last year's. That one was a disgrace, and still a sore topic for everyone in the District. But, Rosa had to concede that Aileen had competed well.

Now it was Rosa's turn. Today was her Reaping Day. Today was the day she would represent District 1 and return it to its glory days.

Was she nervous? Not particularly. She was more concerned about her safety in District 1 than in the arena. Besides, it wasn't as if she had much of a standard to live up to with the past few District 1 tributes, all of whom had been killed off relatively early. Hell, Krystal had been blind! Rosa still scoffed at the stupidity of her former classmate. Krystal had always thought she was more than what she was, and had paid for it with her life. Her family was still paying for it socially, all of them ostracized.

The District needed a victory, and she intended to deliver it.

And with the status of Victor, nobody would dare hurt her.

She would be safe, something she hadn't been in almost eight years.

A knock on the door broke her from her thoughts. At the same time, the coffee machine went off, causing her to swing out wildly with her sword and smash the machine.

 _'Calm down, Rosa!'_ she told herself, slowly moving towards the front door. The hairs on her body were standing up, her heart racing and her stomach in knots. It felt as though she were going to vomit. Another knock came from the door, this one more impatient.

"Rosa!" a voice cried out, clearly annoyed. "Rosa, you have to up already! Come on, girl!"

Rosa exhaled heavily, a nervous laugh coming from her lips. It was Goldenia, Rosa's childhood and best friend. She moved towards the door slowly, beginning to knock a specific pattern into the door.

"Rosa, just let me in! I don't remember the knocking order." Goldenia whined.

"You have too! We practice so many time, Gold!" Rosa replied, her fears heightening again. How could she forget? She knew how important this was!

 _'Maybe she's trying to tell me somebody is with her?'_

 _'No! She just doesn't remember!'_

 _'No! Somebody is with her!'_

"Just let me in, Rosa. I brought all my makeup stuff! Honestly, I know times are a little tough, but the prices they have them at now are ridiculous."

"Gold, you need to do the knocking pattern so I know you're alright!"

"Rosa, I don't remember, ok? I promise I'm here by myself and nobody is threatening m-"

"You have to try to remember!" Rosa pleaded, her voice becoming more desperate, her grip so tight it felt as though he might shatter the sword's hilt. Her door was made of a thick, fashionable wood from District 7. Nobody would have dared to defile it by putting a peep hole in it. Nor were there any windows that could give Rosa a clear view of the front porch, a fact she hated.

Silence for a minute, every second causing Rosa agony. Finally, Goldenia performed the correct knock and Rosa opened the door, dragging Goldenia into the foyer. Instantly, Goldenia was working to calm her best friend down.

"Hey, hey, it's ok! Just cal-" she began, stopping when she spotted the glint of steel. "What the hell? Is that a sword? Why do you have a sword?"

Rosa mentally kicked herself. An oversight. Goldenia and her family were the only ones who knew Rosa's paranoia, but Rosa still kept a lot from her. The sword was just one such example. "It's fine. Just some extra protection."

"Rosa-"

"It's fine!"

"No! No, Rosa, it's not fine!"

Silence fell over them, neither of them sure what to say and neither of them willing to back down from their stances. They had been friends since they were five, both their families living together in the Diamond Quarter. After Rosa's parents… passed… they remained good friends, with Goldenia and her family providing Rosa with familial support. Goldenia always had Rosa's back, even when she didn't deserve it.

"Can we… can you just prep me for the Reaping?" Rosa asked, her voice weak.

Goldenia nodded. "Of course. But you need to put away the sword."

Rosa smiled slightly, Goldenia wasn't trained as a Career and had an adverse reaction to weapons. "Once we're upstairs." She replied, leading them up to her bedroom.

They walked up the stairs in silence, Goldenia kindly ignoring the mess that was her living area. Dust was settled over everything despite Rosa still living in the house. There was also a musty smell in the air, partly caused by Rosa keeping the curtains closed. She could have hired a regular house staff, but Rosa didn't trust them. That's how her parents slipped up.

As they climbed the marble stairs, Rosa could feel Goldenia's eyes burrowing into the back of her head, trying to wrap her mind around her friend's psyche.

 _'Good luck.'_ Rosa thought.

As they arrived in her bedroom, Rosa kicked dirty clothing out of the way, forming a pathway from the door to the vanity. Goldenia did her best to mask her shock at the room's disheveled state and smell, keeping her eyes locked onto Rosa, who took a seat in front of the vanity.

"Can I open a window?" Goldenia asked. Rosa shook her head no, and Goldenia sighed. "Alright, well this would be easier if you showered."

"I did." Rosa lied.

"I can tell you didn't. You reek. When was the last time you showered?"

"I told you, this morning."

"Rosa, you have to shower."

"I'll put on extra deodorant! Just please! Just do my makeup, alright?" Rosa begged. After a few seconds of silence, Goldenia nodded her consent and began to work. Rosa was pretty good with styling herself, but Goldenia was a natural who was already eying an abandoned storefront at the edge of the Silk Quarter to open up her own salon. For Reaping Day, _her_ Reaping Day, Rosa wanted the best.

"I watched one of those new tutorial from the Capitol." Goldenia said, trying to lighten the mood. "They recommended glitter around the eyes to help them sparkle. You already have the eyes for it, and the Capitol will love it."

Rosa smiled softly, flattered by the compliment and the idea the Capitol would love her. She was a typically District 1, Diamond Quarter beauty. Tall, well muscled, platinum blonde hair, fair skin, and with a face like an angel, Rosa shined in whatever room she was in. Though, nobody could guess that by her current looks; Dressed in bulky sleepwear, dark bags under her eyes, and hair frizzy.

"I don't know why the Capitol loves glitter so much." Rosa commented, holding still as Goldenia fixed her hair first. "I love them, but sometimes Capitolites can be crazy. Like, who needs that much glitter in their life?"

"You're starting to sound like you're from District 2." Goldenia joked, happy Rosa was slowly returning to normal. Goldenia lowered her voice, its deep tone meant to mock their fellow Career District. "We here in District 2 don't believe in make up! Or smelling good! Or looking good!"

It was a horrible joke and impression, but Rosa still laughed. "Who do you think they'll send this year?" she asked.

Goldenia rolled her eyes, bringing a curler to Rosa's hair. "Two meatheads like they always do. Well, except for last year, though Sky was beefy enough for the two of them."

Rosa laughed again, remember last year's District 2 tributes. She hoped they wouldn't send the likes of Griffin again. A meathead District 2 tribute was exactly what Rosa wanted. Silence fell over them as Goldenia continued to work on Rosa, fixing her hair as best she could without Rosa showering and then began applying makeup to her face.

"Oh! Guess what I heard on the way over?"

Rosa shrugged in response.

"Sol dropped out! He won't be going into the arena with you!"

Shock too over Rosa as she glared wildly at Goldenia. "You're kidding?"

"No! He did it last night!"

"Why?" Rosa demanded, perhaps too forcefully.

"Nobody knows, but everybody is talking about it."

"Well who's going to replace him?" Rosa asked, her heart rate increasing. Why would Sol drop out? He was just like her, working his way up the ranks at the Career center, making his entire life about the Games in the process. He came from a family of new money in the District, a family desperate to prove themselves as properly wealthy by having a Victor in the family. There was no way he would purposely disappoint them!

More importantly, Rosa trusted him, something she couldn't say about a lot of people. They were friends, or at least as friendly as two people could be who were going into the Games. They knew each others strengths and weaknesses, their likes and dislikes, their dreams and fears. She could remember only a month ago celebrating with him after they were chosen for the Games. Both of them swearing to protect one another until the end, just to make sure District 1 had a Victor.

 _'How could he do this?'_

"I have no idea who's going to replace him. You know better than I do who they could get." Goldenia responded, "Hold still, you need more contour."

"They'll probably get Jason, or Jasper. They were the next top two. They were ready to kill Sol for the position anyways!"

Goldenia stopped her work, realizing Rosa was working herself into a frenzy. "I know you trusted Sol a lot."

"He was my friend. Maybe my best friend at the academy."

"Maybe it's a sign then." Goldenia said cautiously. "Maybe… maybe you shouldn't volunteer."

"Goldenia." Rosa said, an edge in her voice. "We've talked about this."

"I know we have. But Rosa, it's not getting any better. _You're_ not getting any better! What if you go crazy in the arena! You won't have anybody to help you!"

"I won't go crazy, Gold. I'm not a freaking outlier."

"Don't be an idiot, Rosa. Remember Chance last year? He was hysterical near the end! And how could you possible forget about Ansel!"

Both of the tightened up at the mention of Ansel. Nobody in the District said it out loud, but everyone knew that Ansel was a topic that should never be discussed. Even in a District as loyal as District 1.

"Goldenia, I will be fine. That's the end of it." Rosa said, but Goldenia didn't look assured. Sighing, Rosa continued. "You know this is what I have wanted all my life, even before my parents passed. I feel pride when I think about becoming a tribute, pride and joy at the thought of it! And you know I don't feel joyful about a lot of things! But this, I want this. I want to help our District. I want to serve the Capitol! I want to be Victor!"

Goldenia remained silent, knowing that no matter what she said, Rosa's mind was made up. She instead continued with her work, finishing fifteen minutes later. Rosa smiled when she saw the results. She was the visage of perfection, not a hair out of place. In the mirror, she was beautiful, radiating power and confidence, distracting the gaze from the abyssal state of the room behind her.

"Perfect." Rosa said.

* * *

 _'Just another, some liquid courage and celebration.'_

With that thought, Augustus Kerrick finished his third drink. It was shitty, watered down liquor, but it was the best that could be found in the Spice Quarter, District 1's poorest quarter. It'd get the job done though if enough was consumed, and it wasn't like Augustus was going to be a shy spender today.

"More!" Augustus cried out, "Seriously, why'd you stop? Do I have to go to the Diamond Quarter for service? Those shit eaters? Do I have to go to them?"

A more respectable bartender would have cared about being insulted, but in Spice money was money so he poured Augustus another drink. Augustus raised the glass shakily, mockingly giving a salute to the bartender for his service. Perhaps Augustus was drunker than he thought? That was a pleasant idea to the boy.

"To the Games! And to us winning this year!" he cheered. There were a few drunken cheers from other bar patrons, excited for the chance to get drunk. The bartender smiled, cleaning out the dirty glasses in front of him.

"With Rosa and Sol, we've got this. None of that shit with Krystal again. We've got some true tributes this year."

"Sol is done." Augustus muttered. "He's out!"

"What?" the bartender asked, shocked by the news. "You're shitting me."

"I am not!" Augustus responded, giggling softly. "He chickened out like the chicken shit Diamond Quarter shit he is!"

"Where'd you hear that?" the bartender asked, now skeptical of his drunk patron.

"Around." Augustus replied, finishing off his drinking and rising from his stool. "You'll be seeing me later, you know?"

"Will I?"

"Indeed. Hell, maybe I'll give you a shout out!" Augustus laughed, leaving behind the bar as he hummed along with the song playing from the beat up radio on the bar shelf. He shuffled out of the bar, nearly busting the rickety door down before stumbling into the alley.

A dizzy spell came over Augustus and suddenly he was on his knees, puking in the alleyway. Angrily, he hit his fist against the side of the building. A few drinks and he was puking his guts out? Pitiful.

Wiping away the last dribble of vomit, Augustus stumbled backwards and collapsed against the adjacent building. He looked down at himself, happy that the vomit didn't get on his nice clothing. Next to him was a puddle, which he used to gaze at himself and try to fix his ungelled hair.

By the standards of the other Districts, Augustus was a handsome eighteen-year-old, but by District 1 standards he was probably a low six, a fact that he didn't like to acknowledge. He was a smaller than average boy at five foot seven with a small roll of fat around his waist. He did have muscle, but it was largely undeveloped now after he got kicked out of the Career Academy. His blonde hair was also very shaggy, with bangs that went down to his eyes and hair covering his ears. It didn't help either that he seemed to constantly have bags under his blue eyes and a flat nose due to it being broken one to many times.

 _'I've looked worse.'_ Augustus thought. He looked at his watch, one of the few items his father had left him, and noticed that it was almost time for the Reaping Check in. Eager for it to begin, Augustus made his way over to the District tram system. It'd only take him forty minutes to an hour to get to the Justice Building, but Augustus – even in his drunken state – realized that if he stuck around he'd probably start drinking again, and he had to sober up a bit before the Reaping.

 _'It'd be funny to see their faces though.'_ Augustus thought, chuckling to himself at the thought of drunk him walking up onto the Reaping Stage, stunning those dumb little shits from Diamond Quarter. Especially his former classmates from the Training Center.

They were always so snobby, so full of it. Their mommy or daddy had money so they thought they ruled the world. They thought they were _actually_ Capitolites _. 'Dumbasses.'_ Augustus thought. _'What could they understand about the real world?'_

Augustus had worked his ass off, came from nothing, and got into the Training Center without the help of money, unlike all of those other tributes. They always hated him for it and were probably the reason he got kicked out. Nobody could stand how much of a natural he was, how easy combat and survival skills came to him compared to all those rich little shits. They always tried to rig things against him, yet he never let them win. Eventually, they had their mommy's and daddy's pay off the trainers to throw him out.

It was the only logical reason Augustus had to explain why he was thrown out. Melchior understood that too!

Just the thought of Melchior made Augustus feel uneasy. A mix of emotions, positive and negative, elated and crestfallen, and passion coursed through him. He spent years trying to forget about Melchior, his best friend and fellow Spice Quarter resident. He was never coming back, no matter how much Augustus wanted him too.

Augustus' arrival at the tram station drew him out of his thoughts. He handed the transit officer his tram card, who looked at him with a hint of disdain. _'Asshole_.' Augustus thought, giving him a stink eye. There were always those who liked to foolishly think themselves better than others. This transit officer was for sure one of those people.

 _'He's probably a forty-year-old virgin.'_ Augustus thought, laughing lightly to himself as he boarded the tram.

He took a seat in the back, his excitement causing him to smile brightly. As he gazed out the tram window, across the rows of apartment complexes, Augustus thought briefly of his family. He still lived with them, his mother, his bitchy aunt, and his terrible sisters, yet they all lived separate lives. It was the way Augustus preferred it, but he couldn't help but think that he should have told them that he was volunteering for the Games.

 _'Nah.'_ He thought, before reaffirming his strategy. _'They can be surprised like everyone else.'_

And what a surprise it would be. Honestly, Augustus wasn't expecting Sol to break as easily as he did. All it took were a few threats and Sol was backing out of the Games. If it took that little to break him then he certainly had no place in the Games. Augustus rolled his eyes thinking about that. It was that type of sloppy, weak tribute that had prevented District 1 from producing a Victor. For shit's sake, the past two years had produced Victors from District 7 and 12! District 12! It was time for the Careers to get back on top.

And Augustus was the one who would put them there.

* * *

"Rosa! Looking lovely as always!"

"Oh, you're too sweet, Mrs. Sinclair!" Rosa replied, flashing a bright smile for her former elementary school teacher. Mrs. Sinclair smiled back nicely, her face beaming with pride for her former pupil.

"You're going to do great, sweetheart! I'll be rooting for you every second!" She said, clasping Rosa's hand gently and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Rosa laughed and gave her a hug, whispering thanks and flattery into her ear. Once Mrs. Sinclair left, Rosa turned to Goldenia, who was eyeing her cautious.

"What?" Rosa asked. Goldenia shrugged, though privately happy that Rosa had returned to her cheery self for the public. They continued onwards, stopping every block for Rosa to accept praise from people she had known throughout her life. Many of them had clearly been drinking, though Rosa pretended not to notice. She was bubbly for all of them, having a clever remark and pleasant memory to share with each of them. She wanted each of them to feel special and important in their own way.

"You're really quite good at it, you know?" Goldenia asked as they broke away from yet another group of well wishers.

Now it was Rosa's turn to shrug. "People want hope from their new tribute. I don't see any harm in supplying it."

Goldenia didn't reply, knowing Rosa understood her true meaning. Hiding her paranoia was a talent Rosa had learned early on. No one wanted to deal with someone who was mentally broken. It was too much time and effort, and Rosa was obliged to protect them from that. Right now, and for the rest of the time she was in public, it would be as if Rosa hadn't woken up that morning, drenched in sweat and fearing for her life from unseen shadowy forces looking to torture and kill her.

 _'Just another normal girl._ ' She thought.

"I haven't heard anything about Sol's replacement." Rosa commented, returning smiles and waves to onlookers.

"Do you think he'll show?" Goldenia asked. While it was technically required that all children attend the Reaping, District 1's Peacekeepers were more willing to overlook missing children since the District assigned their tributes yearly. Goldenia was only at the Reaping today to support Rosa. As she looked around, Rosa couldn't help but notice a few Peacekeepers with their helmets removed, their faces red and grins wide from drinking.

"I wouldn't if I were him. I still don't know how he could pull out like this." Rosa replied.

"Can you imagine the embarrassment his family must feel?" Goldenia asked as they got in line for check in. "How can they even show their faces after this? And his poor brother! How will he manage?"

Rosa sighed, remembering Sol's special needs brother. He was a sweet seven-year-old boy, always smiling and trying to do magic tricks for people. His family's wealth allowed him to enjoy a life he probably wouldn't be able to have in Panem's other Districts. For a moment, Rosa remembered the disgust she felt when the Trainers told Sol to exploit his brother during the interviews. They had told him the Capitol would love those 'sob stories' of the sad sibling, someone who Sol needed to get back to. Rosa shook her head at the memory, Capitolites wouldn't fall for such clear exploitation so easily.

"Maybe he did it _for_ his brother?" Rosa proposed. "His parents are in their sixties. If they die and he dies in the Games, his brother is all by himself."

Goldenia shrugged, accepting that situation. Internally though, Rosa wasn't sure of that reasoning. Something had happened to Sol that made him quit. Had someone threatened him? That was the most likely possibility. A 'family emergency' wouldn't have qualified Sol, in the eyes of his fellow District 1 citizens, to turn down the chance to compete in the Games.

 _'Jason or Jasper threatened him. That's the only possible answer.'_ Rosa reasoned. While the idea of Sol getting edged out disturbed her, Rosa was comforted by that logic. She didn't particularly like either boy, nor would she trust them like she would have Sol, but they would be an assist early on when she needed them most.

A small prick, some blood drawn, and Rosa was confirmed and moving in front of the Justice Building, grouped in with the other eighteen-year-old girls. It was a small crowd, in part due to District 1's small population and her peers no doubt getting drunk and celebrating. Nobody was nervous either, even with the Sol news, which only helped Rosa calm down more. Her and Goldenia talked idly for a while, making small talk until Rosa looked over at the boy's section.

"Where are Jasper and Jason?" she asked.

Goldenia shrugged. "Not here yet?" she offered, returning to talk about her thoughts on their classmate, Janice. Rosa had blocked her out though, worry starting to creep in. Where were the boys? If they were volunteers in Sol's place, they should have been here by now!

Goldenia did most of the talking after that, only to stop twenty minutes later when the doors of the Justice Building opened and government officials, the Head Peacekeeper, and the escort emerged. The cameras set up around the yard lit up, their first shots of a raucous crowd – both the children in the yard and the adults behind it – cheering happily for the start of the Reaping. A minute later, the cheering intensified as the previous Victors emerged from the Justice building, adorned in their golden crowns and beautiful clothing. Most of them were in their late twenties and thirties, yet all of them looked to be in their late teens thanks to Capitol surgery. Rosa smiled at them all, imagining herself on that stage next year with her own crown and finery.

As the crowd calmed down, the mayor stepped forward, face jovial and red. It was a well known fact that he was alcoholic, but being the mayor of District 1, that was hardly a problem for anyone. Without the need to protect his citizens like mayors of outlier Districts tried too, the mayor of District 1 was largely tasked low importance tasks such as photo-ops and entertaining visiting Capitolite businessmen. Plus throwing parties for the finest from the Diamond Quarter.

The mayor's speech was as dull as ever, though Rosa did appreciate his kind – if canned – words about the bravery she and either Jasper or Jason would be showing in the Games. As always, he ended with a reading of the Treaty of Treason, which outlined the legality and reason for the Hunger Games. Afterwards, the Capitol film began, emphasizing the strength of the Capitol, the glory of the Hunger Games, and the clear relationship between the Capitol and Districts. At the end of it, a shadowy, triumphant Victor stood victorious on a stage, their arms raised as cheers and heavenly light shined down on them.

 _'That's me.'_ Rosa thought, becoming giddy at the thought.

As the video ended, the District's escort walked up the microphone. After last year's disastrous performance, the escort was stone cold sober, doing her best to appear calm. She knew her job was on the line. If she messed up once more, she was fired and forced into some middle income apartment on the outskirts of the Capitol.

"Good morning everyone!" she announced, her high pitched, Capitol accented voice ringing clearly throughout the yard. "Happy Hunger Games!"

Cheers greeted her, causing her to laugh lightly into the microphone. Meanwhile, Capitol television crews made sure to get as many images of the adoring crowd of District citizens as possible. Rosa cheered alongside Goldenia, both of them smiling brightly. Rosa hadn't felt this happy in a long time.

After a few prepared remarks, the escort rushed over to the girls Reaping bowl, filled to the brim with the names of all girls eligible for the Games. The escort picked the first slip of paper her fingers touched, drew it from the bowl, and returned the microphone, unfurling it easily.

"Candice Hathaway!" she read off.

"I volunteer!"

A cheer erupted from the audience as Rosa emerged from the crowd, cameras picking her up and broadcasting her onto the screens around the yard. She looked back at Goldenia, who gave her a comforting smile and nod forward. Rosa walked towards the stage, trying not to skip as she did. Once she arrived, Peacekeepers helped her up the stairs and the escort beckoned her over.

"And what is you name, dear?" she asked.

"Rosa Ranevall!" Rosa announced, causing another wave of cheers to erupt from the audience.

"Well, Rosa, it is a pleasure to have someone as enthusiastic as you! Now, for the boys!"

Rosa took her place on stage as the escort moved over to the boy's Reaping Bowl. While waiting, Rosa looked over to the boy's section, her eyes gazing over the crowd as she searched for Jason or Jasper.

She spotted neither of them, causing panic to once more sweep through her. Rosa was doing her best to appear calm, but even she could feel her façade breaking. She looked for Goldenia, meeting her eyes and communicating her fear. Goldenia looked over to the boys section as well, her face growing worried when she didn't spot Jasper or Jason either.

"Modi De-" the escort began to read off the slip of paper, before a voice cut through her words.

"I volunteer!" it announced, which was soon met with cheers from the crowd. Rosa clapped respectfully, though her panic was still there as she did not recognize the voice. It emerged from the crowed, its owner instantly recognizable to Rosa.

 _'You're kidding me.'_ She thought, her jaw hanging open in shock.

Augustus Kerrick.

Augustus freaking Kerrick was the volunteer and her partner for the Games. Augustus, the self-aggrandizing, obnoxious, horrible boy who thought he was the universes gift to the world. Augustus, who consistently had the worst scores of all trainees, yet excused them by saying the system was rigged. Augustus, who's best friend, Melchior burned down a part of of the Career Center after him and Augustus had been kicked out.

 _'How the hell is he the volunteer this year? Where the hell is Jason? And Jasper? What the actually hell is going on?'_ Rosa thought, her mind in total turmoil.

He was on stage now, his face rosy red and exuding pride, an emotion that he had no right to be expressing. The escort, unaware of the situation and assuming Augustus was the last minute change in volunteer that District officials had been telling her about, welcomed him kindly.

"And what is your name?" she asked, rather unimpressed with the boy. He certainly had nothing on the the usual volunteers from District 1. What would the Capitol think of him?

"Augustus Kerrick!" he shouted into the microphone, causing it to screech from the decibel change. "Your tribute of this years Games, ladies and freaking Gentlemen!"

 _'And he's wasted.'_ Rosa thought, her mood plummeting even further than she thought possible. When she made it back from the Games, Rosa was going to kill Sol, Jason, and Jasper for doing this too her. To shackling him with her.

"Also! I want to give a shout to… well I don't know his name but the bartender at the bar near the tram station in Spice Quarter! You're one hell of a guy and your liquor's great!"

"Well alright then!" the escort announced, shocked by the boy's words. "Ladies and gentlemen of District 1, your tributes for the 78th Hunger Games! Rosa Ranevall and Augustus Kerrick!"

There were cheers and applause, but it became more muted once people realized that for the second year in a row, the government officials on stage looked concerned and angry. Rosa stepped towards Augustus, feeling deflated as her moment of triumphant was soured by Augustus' presence. She still reached out to shake his hand, which he promptly returned, squeezing her hand to tightly. He had to look up to her as well, standing almost three inches shorter than her.

"Happy Hunger Games!" he said with a smile, his breath thick with the smell of liquor.

Rosa wanted to scream, but before she could the escort had them both by the wrists and was dragging them into the Justice Building, away from the stunned crowd and cameras.

* * *

 **District 2**

Erasmus Draven stared contemplatively across District 2's rocky landscape from his family's porch, methodically cracking his knuckles as he hummed a soft tune. It was only an hour past dawn in District 2, with warm orange light still bathing the mountain line in front of him. In a tree nearby, a bird was cawing softly, perhaps tending to her young. Erasmus liked to think that. Motherly love in nature was a beautiful image to him.

He had been awake for the most of the night, a mixture of excitement and nerves keeping him up as the rest of his family slept. His siblings, both in their twenties, had returned for the night to celebrate with their family Erasmus' upcoming Reaping. His siblings had gone through the Career center as well, both missing their opportunities to become tributes, but they were both supportive of him. If they were bitter, neither of them, Caius nor Devona, showed it.

Some people were starting to emerge from their homes now, getting ready for the upcoming festivities of the day. As always, people were feeling good about their chances in the Games this year, a mindset that Erasmus was humbled by. Him and his partner, Lyla, would be excellent tributes. They both liked each other, knew how to work together, and more importantly were relatively level headed. Sure, Lyla had a temper, but she made up for that with her intellect. Erasmus shuttered when he thought about his predecessors, Nicolae and Griffin, the former a morphling addict and the latter… well insane would be too kind of a word.

To Erasmus, neither of them were fit to be tributes. Both of them were conceited and irrational, to obsessed with violence and causing suffering. Did Erasmus feel pride going into the Games? Of course. But he also felt the weight of responsibility that his District was entrusting him with. He did not plan to let them down.

There were children running in the streets in front of him, blithely unaware of the suffering occurring outside the Career Districts. Erasmus had been like them, until his former Peacekeeper father told him at age ten about the real world. He had served in the outlier Districts and he had relayed back tales of the misery that the citizens had to endure. Tales of what he often had to put those citizens through. It destroyed Erasmus' perception of the world, but not his faith in the District 2.

Erasmus knew what the Capitol was and part of him despised it. But he cared for District 2, for all the people in it. There was no way to change the world, that was too difficult and he wasn't intelligent enough to figure out how. But his District had always been good to him, to his family and friends, and he was committed to serving it now.

To be a tribute was to uphold a sacred place in society, an honor beyond anything else in Panem. Erasmus would honor that position to the best of his ability and return a Victor.

That was his duty, not his right. And that thought, to him, separated him the likes of Nicolae or Griffin.

"Hey meathead!"

A smile came to Erasmus' face as he turned to meet the voice, spotting his two best friends, Calista and Declan, coming towards him.

"Rude as always, Calista." He announced.

"Oh, you know me." She replied, walking up the porch steps with Declan, who was more stoic than Calista. "Gotta make an impression."

"How you feeling?" Declan asked, a supportive smile on his face. Or at least, some semblance of one. A year older, Declan had lost his chance at the Games to Griffin, a fact he was still angry about, and now served as a trainer at the Career Center. Bonding with others had never been Declan's strong suit but after working with the younger trainees, he had started to soften a bit.

"Pretty good. Didn't sleep much last night, but I imagine I can make up for it on the train." Erasmus replied. "My family did a nice dinner last night. Beef tenderloin and rice."

"Your favorite." Calista commented. "They must really think your screwed. They're giving you your last meal!"

All three of them laughed. Calista always had a darker sense of humor than most. It would perhaps suit her well as a Peacekeeper. While she and Erasmus had been in the same year at the training center, Calista was always less devoted to her training than most of the other girls. Losing out to Lyla hadn't bothered her in the slightest. Her real desire was to become a Peacekeeper like her father and Calista saw graduating from the Career Center as good experience. Erasmus' father was actually putting in a good word for her with recruiters, who had a tendency to look down on female candidates for some reason.

The three friends spoke for a while, chatting about the Reaping, how their families were doing, and general gossip from the Training Center. They were interrupted by Erasmus' father, Angelo, who gave off a warmth that one wouldn't expect from an ex-Peacekeeper.

"Calista, Declan! Good to see you two? Will you be joining us for breakfast?"

"If that's alright, Mr. Draven." Declan replied, always respectful.

"I asked they wanted to join us, I hope that's ok." Erasmus chimed in.

"Of course you may! It's a big day after all!" Angelo replied, "Why don't you two head on inside, I just want a word with my son privately."

Both Calista and Declan nodded and moved inside, a smile on Calista's face as she smelled Minerva, Erasmus' mother, grilling bacon for Caius and Devona. As they left, Angelo sat down in the patio chair next to Erasmus, gazing out across the landscape with his son.

"A beautiful day." He replied.

"Indeed." Erasmus replied.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes." Erasmus replied, without hesitation.

"Good. I know they've prepared you well."

Silence fell over them and they sat on the patio rocking back and forth. Erasmus didn't rush his aging father. He could tell his father wanted to him something important, but he would do so in his own time. After another minute of silence, he spoke.

"Did I ever tell you about Reaping day in the outlier Districts?" Angelo asked.

"Never." Erasmus said, curiosity bubbling up inside of him.

"It's nothing like what we have here. There is a Reaping Festival, but us Peacekeepers set it up and they were more mocking than anything else. Families would mull around, miserable and haggard eyed. Some children were relieved though, but only because they hadn't been Reaped. Did I ever tell you that it was my job to guard the tributes for their goodbyes one year?"

Erasmus shook his head. The tribute Goodbyes could be a lively affair in District 2 depending on the tribute. Some years, it seemed like everyone in the District wanted to wish them luck and pay their respects. Erasmus couldn't imagine what they were like in the outliers though.

"I was stationed in District 9, as you know. It's not the worst of the outlier, but far from ideal. At that time, District 9 hadn't had a Victor in ten years and hadn't had a tribute make to the final ten in six. That year, two fifteen year olds were Reaped. Both of them were skin and bones, crying and whining all the way to the rooms. The boy actually pissed himself. Their families came to see them, looking just as beat down as they were. I can still remember both of their mother's wailing from inside the room. It still remains the most horrible sound I've heard in my entire life.

Another lull in conversation as Angelo allowed his son to process that information before continuing.

"Now, I was still a new recruit then, only three years out of boot camp. I was still soft. So when the female tributes parents left the room, I was assigned to escort them from the building. As we left, I tried to comfort them. I told them something about how the odds could shift in their favor. How their girl could pull through. They looked at my like I murdered their daughter before their very eyes. You see, when outlier parents go to the goodbyes, it truly is goodbye forever. Because they know their child is going to die."

"I always assumed that was the case." Erasmus replied, unsure of where his father was going with this story.

"Except, that year, I was right." Angelo continued, "The odds did shift in her favor. On day one, her partner was killed in the bloodbath. Some crazy, blood thirsty predecessor of yours took a Warhammer and bashed in her partner's face. She managed to escape covered in his blood and, after a few days alone, she snapped."

A memory suddenly appeared in his mind, an old video of the Games that played on television sometimes. "The 32nd Hunger Games." He muttered.

"Back then, Careers were still a relatively new concept, but District 2 and even 1 were sending in some tough tributes. But despite that, despite all the odds, that skinny, doomed girl from District 9 overcame them all. Her final battle was against the boy from District 2 who killed his partner. And you know what happened to him."

Flashes of blood and screams pierced Erasmus' mind. Her moment of victory was the Hunger Games at its most brutal.

"My point, Erasmus, is this." Angelo concluded. "No matter how much training you have, no matter how prepared you feel you are, never, _ever_ , underestimate outlier tributes. Or any other non-Career for that matter. No matter how weak they may look, never underestimate them. Doing that is how Careers lose. Just look at what happened with Griffin and the boy from District 3 last year. He lets his guard down for minute and then what happens? An icicle into the neck and he's bleeding out, the hopes of the District lost along with him."

"I understand, father." Erasmus replied. He truly did.

Satisfied with that response, Angelo rose from the seat and beckoned his son to follow. "Then let's go enjoy breakfast with the family. You can look at it as your last meal, I suppose."

Erasmus laughed and walked inside with his father, the images of District 9's insane female Victor still pulsating through his mind.

* * *

It was midmorning by the time Lyla Rorish returned from her run. She hadn't intended to go for such a long one, but her nerves had her on edge and running always made her feel at ease. As she arrived at her house, Lyla brushed the sweat off her brow and fixed her pixie cut brown hair before removing her clothing. Although it was hard work, Lyla ran dressed in baggy pants, shirt and jacket.

The way she saw it, the clothing choice best matched what she might have to deal with in the arena. Might as well get used to running in it now.

"Wow! You were gone for a really long time!"

Lyla turned towards her step-sibling, Art. The inquisitive and innocent nine-year-old was perhaps Lyla's favorite thing about her new family. His eyes were always lit up, always happy to be alive and see her.

"I was! I ran all the way to the Justice Building and back.." She replied, bundling up her sweaty clothes.

"Did you run the entire time?" he asked.

"I did. Wouldn't be much of a work out if I didn't." Lyla said, now walking toward Art who was standing in the doorway. His look, tanner skin and blonde hair, was in direct contrast with her pale complexion, brown eyes, and well muscled body. "What have you been up too?"

"Dad and mom want me ready for the Reaping. They told me I had to wear a bowtie too, which is dumb because nobody else is. So why would I wear one?"

"Because your big sister is going to be volunteering for the Games and you need to look nice." Lyla explained, throwing off her running shoes. They were extremely expensive, but since her mother had married Caius they could afford them. In fact, they were perhaps the most expensive thing Lyla owned besides some of her finery she wore for events they had at the house.

"Well, I don't want to wear one." Art replied defiantly. His tone was far too harsh for Art. Looking at him harder, Lyla noticed that he seemed upset.

"Why's that?" she asked. "You ok?"

That was all it took for Art to break down. "Athena told me that I looked stupid in it." He confessed. "That only losers and old men where bowties. And she said that people would call me gay too."

Lyla groaned. Her step-sister continued to be an utter nightmare. Athena, only a year younger than the eighteen year old Lyla, was perhaps the most obnoxious bitch she had met in her entire life. Always complaining, always screaming about how everybody hated her, always willing to talk about how much she hated Lyla.

Some of it Lyla could understand. Once Athena's father, Caius, had married Lyla's mother, Agrippa, he had insisted that Athena join the Training Academy alongside Lyla who was already two years in. Athena had never once before shown any interest in becoming a tribute, but she had joined nonetheless to appease her father. For the next several years, Athena had devoted herself entirely to her training but hadn't been able to stand out against the crowd like Lyla had. The fact that Lyla was now going into the Games infuriated Athena beyond words, who only had one more year to improve her standing from sixth in her class to even have a shot.

"First off, there's nothing wrong with being gay." Lyla commented, "Only an idiot believes that."

"But I'm not!" Art replied.

"I know, I know. Secondly, Athena knows next to nothing about fashion sense. The last person you should be listening to is her. Honestly, have you seen her outfits she wears to parties? No dress needs that many frills in it."

Art was giggling now, though still nervous. "I don't really want to wear the bowtie though." He said.

"Then I can talk to Mom and Caius." Lyla said.

"Mom and _dad_!" Art corrected. Lyla only smiled politely in response, not wanting to get into a fight with Art over her dislike of his father. Not with Art.

She would never admit it, but Lyla was lonely a lot. Her abrasive personality, drive for perfection, and clique status with other Training Center kids had alienated her from many in her District and school. She didn't have friends, though she had people she was friendly with. Art was perhaps her favorite person in the world besides her mother and deceased father, though there were certainly problems on the maternal side.

"I'm going to shower and change. Behave yourself!" Lyla said, playfully tapping Art's nose who giggled in response. She then jogged up the stairs, feeling the burn in her thighs every step she took. Once she reached the top of the stairs, she made a left instead of a right and headed towards Athena's door, giving it a soft knock like Art would.

"What?" Athena screeched, swinging open the door. As soon as she did, Lyla launched herself into the room, grappling Athena and slamming the door shut behind her. Once it was closed, Lyla easily wrestled a screaming Athena, pinning her to the ground.

"How many times, Athena?" Lyla asked, adding extra pressure unto Athena's limbs. "How many times do we have to go over this?"

"Get off of me, bitch!" Athena shrieked, unable to move. Lyla, holding on Athena's arm, twisted her step-sibling's muscles, causing her to scream again in pain.

"How much pain is it going to take you to be nice to Art? Hmm? Your own brother! Because how haven't you picked up on the fact that every time you're mean to him I beat you down. Easily too I might add. Doesn't seem like your Career training is going well."

Athena seethed underneath Lyla, her face writhed in pain. "I've stopped hitting him! I did what you told me!" she hissed, the fight leaving her body.

"Well that's a start." Lyla conceded. "Now you just have to stop being a bitch to him and we'll move on! Can you do that, Athena? Can you stop being a bitch?"

"I will!"

"No, I need to hear you say it."

"Screw you!"

Another twist on the arm, another scream of pain, and Athena was broken. "Ok! Ok! Ok! I promise to stop being a bitch!" she shouted, tears forming in her eyes.

"There, was that so hard?" Lyla asked, releasing Athena and standing up. Athena remained on the ground, her body moving into the fetal position. Satisfied with her work, Lyla turned to leave, only to stop once she heard Athena speak once more.

"I hope you die."

For a moment, Lyla thought about kicking Athena. But instead, she decided to be generous since today was her Reaping day after all.

"Even if I do, I'll still be happy knowing that I've amounted to more than you ever will, Athena." She replied. "Enjoy being daddy's little disappointment."

With that, Lyla left her step-sister in her room, silently enjoying her step-sister's crying as she closed the door behind her.

* * *

District 2's Reaping Day Festival was elaborate but still relatively tame compared to District 1 and 4. Vendors from different stores had stalls set up across District 2's only major city, some of them even at the train station where residents from the many small communities and quarries across the District arrived. Those citizens rarely came into the city, usually only for the Reaping, and easily succumbed to the temptation that was the eager salesperson.

But perhaps the most raucous of all citizens were the Peacekeeper recruits on leave from training for the Games. They were able to return to their families and friends and enjoy usually two weeks off from the intensive Peacekeeper training program. While the sergeants in charge of training always gave order to the recruits to be on their best behavior, and the on guard Peacekeepers to keep an eye on them, the recruits tended to be lost in drunken revelry once they left their families and the Peacekeepers often looked the other way.

"That'll be me next year." Calista commented with a smile as they observed two Peacekeepers in the middle of a chugging competition. "Will you be joining me?"

"Of course." Erasmus replied, "Within reason though."

"Is that so? Are you finally going to start drinking once you're back from the Games?"

Erasmus shrugged, not wanting to sound like he was bragging. "Don't people usually drink when they celebrate? And I think winning the Hunger Games is something to celebrate."

"Fair enough." Calista replied, wincing slightly as her finger was pricked. Erasmus' finger was pricked at the same time by the attendant for the boys, but he didn't flinch. He felt excitement once more, looking over the yard in front of the Justice Building. It was required that all children of Reaping Age be in attendance, but no one ever thought it was a burden. It was an exciting place to be. It was also an incredibly convenient spot to meet up with friends and make plans for afterwards.

Erasmus and Calista broke apart as they were shuffled into their respective groupings. Calista offered him a quick hug before she left, which he returned, happy to have her with him in the Yard. His family would be nearby, as would Declan, but it was still nice to have her here. He didn't expect there to be any trouble this year, but it was nice to know he could count on her support if there was a fight.

Roughly ten minutes later, the Reaping began. The cameras started rolling just as the crowd of children in the yard and adults outside the yard began cheering. Government officials, the Head Peacekeeper, and previous Victors filed out of the Justice Building, all of them smiling and waving for the cameras. Once they were organized, the mayor began his reading of the Treaty of Treason, an event that always made Erasmus' heart swell with patriotism. The following video filled him with wonder though, as the image of the rising Victor, bathed in light, always made him smile.

 _'It's an honorable position.'_ Erasmus thought, _'One that I am humbled to accept.'_

The District 2 escort didn't waste anytime with pleasantries. This was her third year working as escort for District 2 and she had quickly picked up that people preferred the Reaping move along quickly and without surprise. She pulled a slip of paper from the girl's bowl less than a minute after her introduction, unfurled it, and began reading the name.

"Juno Osw-"

"I volunteer!"

A cheer erupted and from the girl's section emerged Lyla Rorish, a smile on her face for the cameras and audience to see. She was practically running towards the stage before she realized she had to slow down for the Peacekeepers. Once they caught up, they continued on their way to the stage, Lyla bounding up the steps once she arrived.

"Your name?" the escort asked, passing the microphone to her.

"Lyla Rorish!" she announced happily.

Once the cheering died down, the escort took back the microphone and moved to the boy's bowl and, without even looking, pulled out a slip of paper. Erasmus smiled to himself. He'd let the escort earn her keep and read out the whole name on the slip. Let some guy know that he had technically been selected for the Games. It was actually quite the quirk for someone in District 2 to have and often made him or her sort of famous.

"Marcus Felix!"

"I volunteer as tribute!" Erasmus shouted. More cheering and Erasmus exited his group, receiving pats on the back from people he'd never met before. They all wanted the chance to say they had touched him. Erasmus, unlike Lyla, waited for the Peacekeepers to arrive before heading towards the stage, an action that Lyla noticed. She smiled at him, rolling his eyes at his antics. He merely nodded back politely as she stepped up onto the stage.

"Name?" the escort asked.

"Erasmus Draven! Proud son and now proud tribute of District 2!"

The cheering got even louder after that statement. Even the more reserved figures on the stage let loose a smile for Erasmus.

"Well it's good to hear your enthusiasm." The escort commented before turning back to the audience, gesturing to both Lyla and Erasmus as she did. "Your tributes for the 78th Annual Hunger Games! Lyla Rorish and Erasmus Draven!"

Both tributes shook hands over the cheer, their excitement palpable to all watching.

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" the escort announced.

"Bet you I get the first kill?" Lyla asked.

Now it was Erasmus' turn to roll his eyes. "With that mentality, I'm for sure the one who's coming home."

"We'll see, Erasmus. We'll see." Lyla replied as they entered the Justice Building, partners both eager for what their future held.

* * *

 ** _A little backstory for people who haven't read my previous stories: Katniss went into the 74_ _th_ _Hunger Games with Peeta. However, when she went to get the medicine for Peeta, her conflict with Clove was much harsher, with Clove stabbing her. Katniss managed to escape thanks to Thersh, but the wound slowed her down and Peeta died from infection before she could return. She used the medicine on herself. Katniss later faced off with Cato in the final two, but – still hurt from Clove's wound, slowed by her own case of infection, and without Peeta's support – was unable to beat Cato or the vicious dog mutts and was killed, making Cato the Victor of the 74_ _th_ _Hunger Games._**

 _ **As another point, because I know this freaks some people out, the amount of writing I devote to a tribute in the Reaping Chapter doesn't correspond with how they might do in the Games. Some tributes just have more information than others or more complex personalities than others that need some more space to be fleshed out. These chapters are basically info dumps and that's how you should look at them.**_

 _ **Also, if it makes any of you feel better, I don't even have a Victor or Bloodbath list yet because I still don't have all the tributes! So once again, if you know anyone looking to submit, let me know!**_

 ** _Next chapter to come sooner than the last! Let me know what you thought of this chapter too!_**


	3. Glorified Peacocks and Desperate Fish

_**So... hi everyone.**_

 _ **Why don't you guys read this first and then we can talk more at the bottom. For now though, I will say that I'm so sorry about zero updates. Please enjoy and let me know what you all think if you're still interested.**_

* * *

 **Chapter 2 Glorified Peacocks and Desperate Fish**

 **District 3**

 **Day of the Reaping**

"Siri, you need to get dressed! We're going to be late!"

"Mother, you have to give me another ten minutes." Siri Oshiro shouted back down the hall, brow furrowed in deep concentration. Why weren't these shapes working with her? The image was so clear in her head, yet the wall she painted on wasn't showing her progress.

"We'll be down in a minute!" Dell announced, already dressed in a sleek grey dress. Siri's mother was fine with that answer, allowing her daughter's best friend to handle her. "Come on, girl, get your clothes on." Dell pushed, pulling out the three dress's that Siri owned for her to view.

"I already have my clothes on." Siri shot back, quite comfortable in her baggy shirt and pants, each with splotches of old paint on them. "Does this look ok to you? I just feel like it's too much grey."

"We live in District 3, nothing is 'too much gray' here. Now come on, put on one of these dresses. Your parents really went all out for you!"

Even Siri had to acquiesce to that. The dresses were very nice, no doubt worth more than what at least sixty percent of the District made in a year. It was a luxury buy, but when her family was rich and lived in the Core, the wealthiest portion of the District, those purchases were allowable.

"The painting is missing something." Siri commented, scratching her neck. She didn't even realize she'd caused paint to splotches across her skin.

"Color?" Dell suggested. "But there's nothing we can do about that. Maybe you could get some dye run off from the factories?"

"Are you purposely trying to kill me?" Siri hissed, her tone angry. "Honestly, Dell, I thought you cared about me!"

Dell rolled her eyes, used to Siri's abrasive tone, knowing she meant no insult with it. "Just a suggestion. Now come on, get one of these dresses on."

"Not until I finish the painting."

"What if I told you I had news about Acer?"

That caused Siri to stop painting, finally breaking her concentration after almost nine hours of work. She had woken up around 2am, inspiration hitting her, and she had to paint. But Acer, he was enough to finally get her to stop. He was her neighbor, and they usually hung out at various events hosted by someone in the Core. He was also the only boy she found attractive.

"What about him?" Siri asked.

"If you get dressed for the Reaping, I'll tell you." Dell replied, trying to play innocent.

Without hesitation, Siri was moving towards the dresses, glaring at Dell. "You're incredibly mean." She said. "Making me get all dressed up for these over glorified peacocks we call Capitolites!"

"Or just clever." Dell replied before turning around to give Siri her privacy as she changed. "So I spoke to-"

"You spoke to Acer directly about this matter?!" Siri questioned, struggling to put on the dress. She had decided to go with the gray dress, not caring that it matched Dell's, and was attempting to put it on in front of her mirror. She was rather tall for someone of Asian descendent, standing at five foot nine and almost a hundred twenty-five pounds. Regardless, Siri was never one to care about personal looks, allowing leg and armpit hair to sprout on her body. She only knew that her family was from the old world continent due to the private tutor her parents gave her because of her "condition" as they said politely. Her tutor, Isaac, didn't have much of a filter and Siri loved when he taught her things that students at school didn't know.

"Of course not, I spoke to his best friend! He said that Acer also likes you."

Siri had to take a moment to process that information. Acer liked her. It was such a foreign concept to her, yet Siri refused to let her emotions show on her face. "Well, I'm glad that he does. Especially with my condition."

Dell huffed at that. Siri knew that Dell didn't approve of her parent's efforts to conceal their socially awkward daughter. "You don't have a condition." She said, always so supportive of Siri that it would annoy her at times.

"Asperger's is a condition. Not a terrible one, and one that I can certainly work with." Siri replied.

"Anyways," Dell continued, not wanting to get into the knity gritty of it with her friend. Siri could debate anybody into the ground, often without mercy. She had left many a boy or girl tearful because of her lack of manners. "Acer want's to meet up after the Reaping for the Dover's party down the block."

"Just us heading over together?" Siri asked. All the families of the Core were invited to that party. There was nothing special about it, except that alcohol was served. The Dover's were rich enough to convince the Peacekeepers to look the other way, meaning the Core was often a wild neighborhood to be in post-Reaping. If the Capitol was making the District throwing a Reaping Festival, the people in the Core would do it drunk.

"Well, Acer asked if his friend and I could be there." Dell said, knowing exactly how it sounded. "But I promise you that him and I will leave you guys alone once we get there."

Siri, however, did not understand the underlying implications of Acer wanting their respective best friends there. "If you want. I don't mind having you both there." She replied, zipping up the back of the dress. She looked herself over the mirror, paint still drying on her arms and hair frizzled. She hadn't showered in two days, not that it was unusual for most of District 3. Instead of dealing with the paint marks, Siri instead went into her small closet and pulled out a zip up hoodie, its coarse appearance spoiling the beautiful dress.

"Should we go now?" she asked.

Dell nodded her approval. She had done her part in getting Siri dressed, if her parents wanted to shout at her about the hoodie, that was their business. Together, the two girls left Siri's room and made their way to the foyer of the one story house, both hoping that the Reaping wouldn't take to long. While there was a certain amount of dread in them for the event, especially since one of the Core's own children had been Reaped last year, the odds were in their favor enough that both girls knew they would be back in the Core soon enough for the Dover's party.

* * *

"And one more line in the dirt… aaaaaand there we we have it! Our own little District!"

A serious of gasps escaped the lips of the various kids of the Canal section of District 3, marveling at the work of the older boy, Cyril Swatton. They were standing the Canal's park, though it was hardly anything more than just a flat mound of dirt that didn't contain any rusted pieces of metal or needles. Due to its lack of danger and central location, the area quickly became known as a park for children, many of whom went there at all times of the day to escape the dreary atmosphere of their own homes. Today, sixteen year old Cyril had decided to form the dirt into a a small city, with bits of small rubble acting as people the other kids, all of whom were below the age of ten, could play with.

"So cool!" one of them, Data, breathed. She was the leader of this group of seven dirty boys, all of whom worshiped her. "I get to be the mayor!" she declared, grabbing hold of the large, silver screw who was the mayor's stand in.

The boys grumbled at that, but didn't fight her. They quickly began grabbing pieces as well as Cyril admired his work. "You guys have fun with it, ok?"

"You're not going to play with us?" Data asked, disappointment in her eyes.

"Not today, I have to start getting home and bathe before the Reaping."

"Oh right, that's today. Well good luck! My dad says we don't have to be there as early as you guys do." Data said, before turning to the dirt city so she could begin her rule. Cyril smiled at the innocence. They were still too young to fully grasp the horror of the Reapings. They knew that children went off to die, but none of them had older siblings or cousins who had gone through it. None of them fully understood the fear that it filled Cyril with. Building the dirt city had been a great way to distract himself, but now it was time to return to reality.

His terrible, depressing reality.

As Cyril made his way home, he attempted to distract himself with happier thoughts so he wouldn't have to pay attention to the disgusting smell or look of the Canals. His mother and him had been living there for seven years now, and still Cyril could not fully adjust to his new environments. Going from the Core to the poorest part of District 3 was a shocking, even without the emotional baggage they brought with them.

The rickety noise from the makeshift bridges brought him back to earth though, as he quickly moved across the remainder of it to safer ground. The Canals were named such because rows of trenches littered the area, often outside the the small shacks people called homes. Sewage, run off from the factories, and other garbage travelled through them, staining the entire area with a horrible smell that no one, not even those born and raised there, were able to fully adjust too. To adapt, bridges and boardwalks had been constructed from used sheet metal to allow for people to at least navigate the area.

While starvation was always a near constant, most people in the Canals died from infection or disease. Infants were especially susceptible to the disease, with over half of all babies being born dying within the first year. The only benefit was that the Peacekeepers steered clear of the area, not wanting to risk crap being thrown at them by angry locals who could navigate the maze of canals and bridges easily.

Rounding another corner, Cyril came to a stop when he saw four people, three men and one woman, standing outside his home. He knew who they were, everyone in the Canal did, Cyril remained exactly where he was, not wanting to interfere. Phantom pains shot through his body, lighting up along the scars the were scattered across his body. His side hurt especially, as he felt bruised ribs that never healed properly bumping against his skin. And of course, there were his missing fingers.

Luckily, none of the gang members decided to look his way. The woman, the leader, was talking with his mom, who looked worn down and desperate. An exchange of cash, the gang leader smiled, and soon the members were gone. The air on the block seemed to relax once they left, though the putrid smell of burned rubber and shit still remained.

As his mom entered their hovel, Cyril quickly made his way down their street. Entering their home, Cyril let out a sigh of relief, feeling safe in his own home despite its terrible design structure. His mom turned to him, offering him a small smile.

"We have a loaf still left over. A bit stale, but doable." She said, offering the entire loaf to her son. "We can run over to the supply depot and grab some more after the Reaping."

"We have enough?" Cyril asked, honestly surprised. The gang had a tendency to clear them out.

"I made a little extra this month. We'll be fine." His mom replied, giving him a mischievous wink. The behavior was all a show for him, but he appreciated it. His mom truly did love him, which is more than what he could say for many moms and dads in the Canal.

"Then we can do that." Cyril said, knowing that his mom probably had to lie to the gang members to be able to hold onto that money. "We also have my tesserae. That'll help too."

A touchy subject. Cyril had been forced to take extra tesserae each year, an act that his mom disapproved of. But it was the only way that they could survive, especially since most of their income was given away. "That'll do too. Hopefully they'll have the regular amount this month."

Yet another touchy subject, but this one was District wide. Over the past two months, the food supply had been lower than they were suppose to be. Already meager to start, the rations that Cyril had been promised for adding his name more times into the Reaping bowl were practically zero. Nobody argued it though, all knowing that it would mean a beating from a Peacekeeper.

Cyril merely nodded in response and excused himself to bathe. The tub was located in the backyard, abandoning all ideas of privacy. All of his neighbors had seen Cyril in various stages of undress, but he had seemed in as such as well. It was just the way they lived in District 3. Unless you were in the Core.

Instantly, his mind was transported back to easier times, when he lived with his parents in a respectable one story house in the Core, which actually had a backyard that wasn't filled with holes and garbage. Memories of his dad, dead seven years now, came flooding back as well. Cyril focused on the happy memories, as he tried to do with everything. Ones of him playing with his dad in the yard and ones of him holding Cyril after he had come running to his dad about a nightmare.

In hindsight, Cyril couldn't believe how innocently he looked at him, never seeing his darker side. True, he had only been nine when it all came out, and even after what happened to him, Cyril still took a while to fully grasp it. His dad had never raised his voice to him, never brought any of the shady characters that would eventually torture Cyril to their home, and was never violent with his mom or him. His dad would spank him sometimes, but it was always dispassionate and never done in a fit of rage. Those painful sessions did nothing to prepare him for what was coming though.

The unpleasant memories started wafting up towards him, just like the smell of sewage, forcing Cyril to fight them off. Letting out a long sigh, Cyril began to address himself, just wanting to get the Reaping over with.

* * *

"They can be really annoying, can't they?"

Dell looked towards Siri, pulling her recently pricked finger out of her mouth. "They're doing their jobs." Dell replied, thinking that Siri was referring to the Peacekeepers. Even if they were children of the Core, it still wasn't wise to insult Peacekeepers.

"No, not them. Of course not them. My parents." Siri corrected, exasperation creeping into her voice. She wasn't good with emotion, and her parents near tears performance while they wished her well always made her uncomfortable. "They always get so emotional with these Reapings. This is my fourth one and my name is hardly in that bowl. Nothing is going to happen."

"You are _really_ tempting fate today. Maybe calm down a bit? You never know what can happen." Dell cautioned, though she herself wasn't too worried. Both of their names were in the bowl the bare minimum amount. As they took their place in the sixteen-year-old section, they looked around at their peer who had a greater chance of being Reaped. They gazed back at them in turn, offended by the nice clothes that Siri and Dell wore. If a Peacekeeper wasn't near them, Siri was certain one of them would spit at her.

The two girls grew silent, the awkwardness in the air choking both of them. So far, in Siri's experience, it had been like this ever year. The lower class girls staring at them in the Core attire, despising them. The less her and Dell talked, the better. Siri just wanted the Reaping to be over. She would never admit it to Dell, but she was panged with anxiety over Acer and their coming date. On second though, Siri didn't think it was fair to call it a date. Whatever it was, it had her nervous, and she anxiously began scratching her arm, a telltale sign of her nerves.

"You'll be fine." Dell whispered, squeezing Siri's arm softly. "They won't do anything."

"That's not-" Siri began, before stopping herself with a sigh. "Thank you." She replied instead. Dell had always been there for Siri, even though Siri had no idea why. They had been best friends since youth and had been through so much together. Even though Dell still went to school and had other friends, she always came back to Siri. It was a sort of friendship and commitment that Siri didn't know how to react to. Her inability to understand would make her feel angry at times, but she always came back to appreciating Dell.

There was a crackle through the air as the microphone picked up the doors of the Hall of Justice opened. Their new mayor, Melanie Sinclair, lead the group of officials alongside the Head Peacekeeper onto the stage. She was elegant, Siri thought, without a hair out of place and clothing that commanded respect, yet not entitlement like some styles from the Core. As soon as everyone was settled, Mayor Sinclair stepped up to the microphone and began to speak.

"Good morning, citizens of District 3, and welcome the 78th Hunger Games Reaping." She announced, not trying to make her voice happier as the Capitol preferred. "Before we begin, I would just like to say what an honor it is to oversee this year's Reapings. As your new mayor, I am proud of our citizens, and I will be proud of the young man and woman who will join me on this stage soon. We came so close last year. May the odds be in our favor now!"

A variety of noises came from parts of the crowd. The adults in the back were moved by their mayor's words, as her own daughter, Amélie, was killed in last year's Bloodbath. It was because of her death, and Sinclair's following support for the Capitol, that many believed Sinclair had been given the job of Mayor.

But it was more than just the murmurs of support, there was an undercurrent of anger running through the crowd. District 3 had made it to third place in last years Hunger Game, a feat that hadn't been accomplished in almost two decades. Watt Dresner had been their small, underfed, traumatized, unlikely hero who defied the odds to make it so far. Even his family admitted in their Final Eight interview that they didn't expect Watt to make it. He had come so close, only to be cut down by the male tribute from District 4.

Siri snorted as she thought about it. It was forbidden to say his name in the District following his outburst near the end of last years Games. Now, he was only to be known as the male tribute from District 4, if he had to be referred to at all. His words had inspired some acts of terrorism from the anarchists, who Peacekeepers thought they had rooted out years ago. If that occurred in District 3, Siri couldn't imagine what was happening in other, more rebellious Districts.

 _'That probably explains why the tesserae have been so small.'_ Siri thought, remembering how Dell told her kids at school were upset about it. _'The Outliers are rebelling.'_

Mayor Sinclair finished her speech and called up the District's airheaded escort. She still wore all yellow and at least seemed more confident in herself this year. Siri felt a small smile creep onto her face as she remembered how the escort's words last year had almost started a riot. This year though, the escort was very controlled and got right to the point.

"Last year I chose the ladies first, so why not switch it up and pick gentlemen first?" the escort asked rhetorically. With a small, awkward laugh she walked over to the boy's bowl and fished around in it for a name. Much like last year, she took her time, a full thirty seconds, before pulling out a name. Unwrapping the paper as she walked, the escort announced the name once she reached the microphone.

"Cyril Swatton!"

A sharp gasp from Dell. "Oh damn, we know him!" she whispered loudly into Siri's ear, causing her to recoil.

"We do?" Siri asked, looking up at the screens for a visual. Within seconds, Cyril appeared on screen, now an island in a sea of sixteen-year-old who had stepped away from him. He was a short guy with a little muscle, but his skin was too pale and black hair too shaggy and long to be considered traditionally attractive. He was utterly petrified, as if he were about to vomit, though didn't resist as Peacekeepers dragged him from his section and pushed him towards the stage.

"He used to live in the Core! His dad was like, a factory manager I wanna say? I think?"

Siri raised her eyebrows at that. "A factory manager doesn't make enough for a house in the Core."

"You really don't remember him?" Dell asked. "His dad died when he was like ten or something. My parents said his family couldn't pay the taxes on the house, so they were forced to move to the Canals."

Siri gave him one more look as he stood next to the escort and shook her head. "I really don't remember him."

"Well, maybe he'll win and get to come live in Victor Village next door." Dell remarked.

"I doubt he has a chance."

"Hey, after Watt, I'm willing to give anybody a chance."

"And now for the ladies!" The escort continued, before moving over the girl's bowl and repeating her long process for them. After grabbing a name, she rushed back to the microphone and read it off.

"Oh, such a pretty name! Siri Oshiro!"

Another deep gasp from Dell erupted next to Siri, who stood there stunned. But suddenly, she began laughing, thinking back to earlier when she had taunted fate. Siri didn't believe in anything spiritual, but the irony from the universe was too much to handle.

"Oh, woe is me. My young life cut so short, for the entertainment of glorified peacocks." Siri announced, her laughter subsiding and leaving a smile behind.

"Siri, what the shit?" Dell breathed, mouth agape at the development. "How could… how is this… I volunteer! I volunteer as tri-"

Siri hissed and was on her friend, throwing her hand over Dell's mouth. "Don't be an idiot!" Siri shouted. "There's nothing you can do! You don't stand any better chance in the arena than I do, anyways."

Dell's eyes were tearing up, a low moan escaping between Siri's fingers. Siri could feel the petty eyes on her, the lower class girls reveling in the moment. Another Core girl taken. No doubt they were rooting for her to die in the Bloodbath as well. "You're going to be ok, Dell. You will be." Siri said, removing her hand from Dell's mouth and walking out of her section. Her laughter had been picked up by the cameras, so Peacekeepers had quickly found her and were awaiting.

The walk felt like an eternity, but she eventually reached the stage without any other outbursts. The escort welcomed her up with a smile. "That was quite the reaction!" the escort stated. "Why the laughter?"

Siri shrugged. "Just a joke between my friend and me."

"Well alright then. Secrecy, I love it!" the escort commented. Her face morphed into mild disgust when she looked down at Siri's unshaved legs. "Ladies and Gentlemen, your tributes for the 78th Hunger Games! Shake hands you two!"

A small amount of clapping could be heard from the crowd, rather mockingly towards Siri, but she ignored it and turned towards her partner. He wasn't much, standing three inches shorter than her. Even at this close distance, she still didn't recognize him. Extending a hand, she was surprised when the hand that grabbed hers was missing a pinky and ring finger. There were also some scars running up along his arms, though they did not appear to be self inflicted.

"I think I know you." Cyril muttered.

Once more, Siri shrugged. "Doesn't matter, we'll both be dead in a week."

And without another word, Siri turned and lead the the way into the Justice Building.

* * *

 **District 4**

In the quiet of his darkened room, Marlin Mendez sat shirtless doing his breathing exercises. A candle was lit in front of him, soothing to him as it danced off the walls and his own bare, sculpted brown muscles. Marlin breathed in and out over and over again, mastering him breath and heart rate, focusing his mind on just one thing and one thing only.

Or at least he would if the hovercrafts would quiet down outside.

Marlin's eyes opened as, after almost an hour of trying, he realized he would be unable to meditate effectively today. Much like he hadn't been able to over the past months. District 4, even the elite Oceanside community where he resided, had been transformed since the 77th Hunger Games. Now, Peacekeepers patrolled every street, tanks and checkpoints were set up everywhere, and hovercrafts – models which were designed for combat and not silence – flew over at all hours of the day.

All because of that idiot, Ansel Gephardt.

Marlin had no mercy in his mind for Ansel. The idiot District 4 tribute from last years Games that had a chance to win and threw it away so he could yell lies about the Capitol. His death had been horrifying, but Marlin knew he deserved it. There were always rebels out there, always looking to tear down Panem and leave only anarchy. The Capitol was the only way to prevent the collapse of civilization.

Getting up, Marlin went over to the wall and flipped on the lights and opened the blinds. Looking outside down the street, Marlin could make out the festivities that were taking place at his soon to be Partner for the Games Mediterrania's house. Her parents were hosting a 'Goodbye' Celebration for their daughter and had invited everyone. Marlin had been invited as well, but he never did well in social settings. He was much better with hitting and killing things.

Thinking about the party, Marlin remembered he was supposed to meet Mediterrania so they could head to the Reapings together. It would be a half hour until they were to meet, but Marlin didn't mind heading over early and waiting.

Changing quickly, Marlin put on a respectable suit and tie, bought by his parents for the big day. Looking himself over in the mirror, he actually looked quite nice. Allowing himself a smile, Marlin made his way over to the the Seville's villa, quite happy with how the day was going.

* * *

Just down the block, the hovercrafts were also spoiling the mood of the Seville family's congratulations brunch for their daughter, and future tribute, Mediterrania. No expense had been spared by the Seville's for their only child, her goodbye brunch would be splendid despite the horrid state of the District at the moment. Tables of food and alcohol stretched along the patio that overlooked the sea, a cool ocean breeze blowing over the party guest. Roughly thirty families, and some of Mediterrania's friends, had showed, all of whom were carefully tended to by the villa's staff.

At the center of it was Mediterrania herself, dazzling in a beautiful white dress that contrasted nicely with her olive, almost brown, skin and dark hair. The dress was cut above her breasts, showing off her well muscled shoulders, from long hours of training, and a freckles, from long hours in the sun. Mediterrania was on the shorter side, yet she radiated confidence and made all eyes look to her.

"It's such a shame that Marlin couldn't join you this morning." One of her neighbors commented, already on his fourth mimosa. He was an elderly man, and Mediterrania had to work hard not to squint her nose in disgust at how poorly he had taken care of himself.

"I know, I was disappointed too. But I know Marlin, he always just wants to meditate by himself." She replied, baring her pearly white teeth at her neighbor.

"Oh? I didn't realize people actually meditated." The neighbor laughed. "I hope you two can get along in the arena as well!"

"Don't worry, I know we will. In fact, Marlin and I-"

"Because we can't have another year of District 4's tributes being on opposite sides of everything!" the neighbor continued. Mediterrania's sunny façade didn't break though. She hated being interrupted, especially by old men who thought every word they spewed had wisdom. "Two years in a row where our tributes weren't together with the Careers? Of course, it was always the female tribute who ran off with Outliers!"

"Isabella joined with the girl from District 3, not the Outliers." Mediterrania corrected, unable to help herself as she took another sip from her own drink. It was just water as Mediterrania hated drinking. She never understood the appeal of losing control over one's behavior.

"Oh of course, I knew that. But what I mean is that I'm hoping you won't be planning the same."

"Don't worry about a thing. I won't let this District down. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think my friends are calling me."

Scurrying away from the drunk old man, Mediterrania made her way over to a group of friends from school. She didn't invite anybody from the Academy, not that there were a lot of peers to mingle with, not wanting guests to focus on anybody but her.

"Hey, ladies." Mediterrania hissed, causing her friends to jump in fright. "Why didn't anyone rescue me?"

The five of them looked at one another, like fish cowering before a shark. One of them was going to be attacked, who would step up for this round?

"We thought that you wanted some time with your neighbor." One of the girls, Cascade, said. "We didn't want-"

"Cas, why would you think I would want to spend _any_ time with that old man?" Mediterrania shout back, taking a step towards Silvia. The other girl stepped back, eyes downcast or looking into their drinks. "And put down your drinks! You know I hate drinking!"

"Mine doesn't have any alcohol in it though." Another "friend", Emilia, said, as the other friend's put down their glasses. Mediterrania shot her a look, causing Emilia's eyes to go wide. "Sorry, I just thought-"

"Oh no, don't worry. You're fine!" Mediterrania laughed, wrapping and arm around Emilia's face. She could feel Emilia stiffen under her grip, a fact that surprised, but didn't upset, her. "It's my party! You should enjoy it. In fact, I'm sorry I got upset with you all. If you want to enjoy the alcohol, go for it! My parents didn't spend all this money to entertain some of the most important people in District 4 _just_ to have you girls not enjoy it fully! So go on, enjoy!"

All the girls thanked her and smiled and laughed, but not one of them picked their alcohol back up. Mediterrania's smile widened at that, as she steered the conversation towards more pleasant topics. She wasn't a fool, Mediterrania knew the girls had a healthy fear of her. She herself helped encourage it. It wasn't malice that drove her towards it, but Mediterrania's desire for control. It's how she become one of the most popular kids at school, the best at the Academy, and now, District 4's new female tribute.

The conversations were cut short by a clanging on glasses as Mediterrania's parents, ever doting and spoiling their daughter, drew attention to themselves, and then their daughter. Mediterrania knew it was her cue, and she left her smiling friends to join her parents at the top of the patio, where they were already singing her laurels.

"Over the years, we've seen our little girl grow up so much." Adrian, Mediterrania's father, remarked. "She's conquered every challenge life has thrown at her and now, she'll conqueror the greatest one in Panem!"

A collective awe escaped the lips of the audience, while Mediterrania playfully rolled her eyes at her father's cheesy remarks. Wrenna, Mediterrania mother, leaned over and pecked her daughter lightly on her temple before turning to address the audience in turn, only to be interrupted by a booming loudspeaker from the hovercraft over head.

 **ATTENTION, CITIZENS OF DISTRICT 4. REPORT IMMEDIATELY TO YOUR DESIGNATED REAPING CENTER. YOU HAVE TWO HOURS AND THIRTY MINUTES REMAINING. NON ATTENDENCE BY ANYONE IN THE DISTRICT WILL BE MET WITH EXECUTION.**

"Such a horrible announcement." Wrenna commented, annoyed with being interrupted. She looked across the audience, all of whom, including the hosts, were unaccustomed to the Capitol's more militaristic tendencies toward the Districts. "Well, I think that's our cue!"

Laughter erupted, along with cheering. Many shouted Mediterrania's name in congratulations before downing their drinks. Mediterrania turned to her parents and gave them hugs, more than thrilled by how her party had come together. She then left them and went over to her friends, who were already waiting with some of the other children at the party to head over to the Reaping. Without a word to them, Mediterrania began making her way through the villa while they followed a step behind. Outside, she was happy to see Marlin waiting for her on the street.

"I hope you haven't been waiting long." Mediterrania called out, leaving behind her friends to run up and hug Marlin. He returned the display of affection with just one arm lightly wrapped around her, as if he were about to haul her off.

"Just ten minutes." He said, quickly unwrapping him from her.

"You should have come inside!"

"Not my scene."

Mediterrania rolled her eyes and, as soon as her friends caught up to her, began walking arm in arm with Marlin towards the town center. It was about a ten minute walk with the rail system, but it was a beautiful day and Mediterrania was in a good mood so she dictated that they would walk the way, adding on another fifteen minutes. Her friends, half of whom were in cheap heels they got off the black market before the crack downs, felt dread fill them at the prospect. Marlin couldn't help but chuckle.

"Still got them whipped, I see." He remarked.

"They're not whipped. They're my friends. You'd understand if you had any friends." Mediterrania replied. Out of everyone she knew, Marlin was the only one she wasn't able to fully control, though she wasn't disturbed by that. He was always very predictable and always said what was on his mind, he just didn't like following orders unless they were the Capitol's orders. Mediterrania thought that he was a bit simple because of his blind devotion, but he had always been nice to her and never stepped on her toes.

All things considered, Mediterrania actually liked Marlin well enough. She trusted him just the right amount to be his partner in the Games too. But more importantly, she liked him just the right amount to be able to kill him when the time came. Not that people in her District would mind. After all, everyone knew Marlin was only going into the Games so he could spew some pro-Capitol ideology and try to fix things post-Ansel.

* * *

Marlin didn't want to at first walk, but upon realizing that he and Mediterrania were about to be on a train for several hours, the idea of fresh air seemed much more appealing. Marlin also didn't want to upset the power Mediterrania was exerting over her friends, who followed her around like servants.

Why the girls put up with Mediterrania was beyond him. She could be very intense, but she wasn't insane and didn't hurt anybody outside of training. Perhaps they just thought she'd be their best shot at a good social future if she came home from the Games. It was always good to know a Victor. In fact, most people they passed paused to gape at them, knowing the were this year's tributes. A few even wished them luck.

 _'Too bad she won't be coming back.'_ Marlin thought. While he thought she could be too materialistic and concerned about other's opinions, Marlin did like Mediterrania. Never in a romantic sense, though Marlin had no problems with thinking about what it'd be like to sleep with her. Weirdly though, for a girl who many considered to be the hottest girl in District 4, Mediterrania never seemed to take much interest in sex. In fact, as far as Marlin knew, she had never hooked up with anyone.

"This area is so shitty." Mediterrania commented. They were only a couple blocks from the Hall of Justice, still in line waiting to be checked in.

"It didn't always look this bad." Marlin said. The Capitol had set up road blocks and turrets along the roads leading up the Hall of Justice, the heart of the District. Some buildings had been bombed or set a fire, all because of those stupid rebels. Marlin's heart clenched with hatred at the thought of the rebels.

"Well now it looks hideous. Ugh, I hope they can repair it in time for when I get back."

"I'm sure they will!" One of Mediterrania's friends said, though Mediterrania didn't bother to reply.

After a long wait, Marlin and Mediterrania finally turned onto the main road leading up to the Hall of Justice. What they saw was shocking. Bodies lined up along the sides of the wide road, all dangling in the air by ropes around their necks. The bodies had been stripped naked and branded with what looked like the Capitol's emblem. Even from the distance, Marlin could make out flies around their bodies. Peacekeepers lined up underneath the corpses, their black tinted helmets depriving them of any humanity and turning them into a haunting image.

"Good." Marlin commented. "They deserve it."

Mediterrania didn't comment, causing Marlin to look intensely at her, though her head didn't budge an inch towards him. Marlin had always suspected that Mediterrania wasn't entirely committed to the Capitol, though she espoused it loudly and often during training. Marlin looked around them, disgusted to see that people actually seemed afraid. If they weren't rebels, they had nothing to be afraid of.

In short order they were checked in and separated. Mediterrania offered Marlin a quick wink before ordering her girls into the eighteen year old section. Marlin went into the boy's section directly across, positioning himself closest to the stage. Some of the other boys around him recognized him and engaged.

"You actually going to win it this year for us?" one of them asked, tone nasty and highlighting the 'actually'. His body and breath reeked of fish and his 'nice' clothing had five visible patch jobs on them.

"Probably not." Another boy, who was behind Marlin so he couldn't see. "He going to fall in love with some freaking Outlier and think he's hotter shit than the Capitol."

Marlin decided not to fight back. The Reaping was getting ready to start and he'd rather not have cameras witness him beating up people in the crowd. His silence though only encouraged their jeers.

"You better win, asshole." Fish breath said, getting to close to Marlin for comfort. "It'll get these Peacekeepers off our back. My dad gotten whipped so bad he can't walk anymore. All because one of you dumbass Careers couldn't do their job and then couldn't even die properly. Fix this!"

As Marlin thought, the doors to the Hall opened up and government officials and Peacekeepers emerged. The crowd of teenagers fell silent and drew to attention. Usually there would be some cheering as the Reaping started, but after the last year they had, everyone was either too nervous or too angry for excitement.

The Mayor seemed to sense this and didn't hold up time with his speech. The video was played, the Treaty was read, and soon the escort was at the bowls, pulling out a girl's name first. Mediterrania didn't even give the escort to finish reading before she volunteered, emerging from the audience with a smile and a hair flip while some of her posse cheered for her. The escort looked ecstatic as she walked up onto the stage.

"And who might you be?" she asked, leaning the microphone towards her.

"Mediterrania Seville!" she declared, taking hold of the microphone. "Proud tribute and your future Victor!"

Now there was some more cheering, including clapping from the stage. An air of normality returned to the Reapings as people remembered that despite last year, they still had tributes who could actually win. The escort thanked Mediterrania and then moved to the boy's bowl. Much like Mediterrania, Marlin didn't give the escort a chance to read off the name.

"I volunteer!"

More clapping, though none from the boys surrounding him. Since he was near the front, it didn't take long for Marlin to make his way up onto the stage. Soon he had the microphone in hand as well, announcing his name and intentions to win too. The escort wrapped things up quickly after that, the tributes shook hands to applause from the audience, and the pair made their way into the Justice Building.

"I think one of us can actually pull this off." Mediterrania commented, lopping her arm once more around Marlin's.

"Maybe." He replied, also feeling quite hopeful about their chances as the doors to District 4 closed behind them.

* * *

 ** _Ok, here is the short version._**

 ** _Last semester of college was very rough for me and not easy at all. I don't wanna get into it so much, but I just had a lot on my plate and I think I have it figured out now. I'm going to try writing some every week to help me deal more with a busy schedule (I'm now in Law School) so I'm hoping to update this story more. If there's interest in it still, great because I do have an arena plan and themes in place._**

 _ **Again, I am so sorry to not have updated. If you would like, review and let me know your thoughts. Thank you and again, I apologize.**_


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